Babyshower Blowout
by Becca-W
Summary: **Discontinued for now.* At Bulma's insistence, Juuhachigou's babyshower is arranged; now, Krillin will have to handle not only a pregnant wife, but Lunch and a number of others at the get-together. Let's see how everyone will handle it...


Disclaimer: For Pete's sakes, no!  
  
Chelsee, you're great, you're great, you're great!!  
  
  
  
Although it was one of the nicest spring days on the island that year, and though she was alone without anyone to bother her, and not even the ants had come out to crawl around madly in the heat, Juuhachigou couldn't have been more bored. She curled her legs under herself as best she could, but her swollen stomach aggravated every move she attempted to make. With one hand she steadily guided her body to the sandy ground, the other lying over her belly.  
  
Normally, on such a nice day as this, one would praise the sweet breezes that occasionally floated through, or how the sun wouldn't blaze on the already warmed dirt of the earth and chose to smile instead.   
  
Breezes did tousle Juuhachigou's hair, glints of white flashing, separating itself briefly from the blonde; not that she noticed, of course. Picking at a blade of grass, she was about to split in half with a fingernail when a dark blotch in the sky grew large enough to gain her attention.  
  
Still fiddling with the little bit of grass, she watched the blotch silently until it had reached the size of a malformed prune. Before the prune had reached a recognizable state, she had read the double C's on the side panels of the craft.   
  
Company. Ever since she and Krillin had made a home of the island, they hadn't seen much of the others. It wasn't that they didn't care, but the Kame house was far enough out that, except on some occasions, they didn't see anyone but who lived there for weeks. Master Roshi and Oolong had kept to themselves, too; they seemed very edgy around her.  
  
Before the craft landed, Juuhachigou had struggled up onto her feet, not wanting to be helped up like an old woman; being old and pregnant were two different levels of dignity to support, only one of which she was responsible of.   
  
With a quick sigh of air a door sprung open in the side of the machine, allowing two heads to come out into the open. One straightened the vest she wore, slightly dizzy. The other inhaled deeply before grinning.  
  
"Good morning, Juu-san!" She called, hands cupped around her mouth. Juuhachigou nodded a greeting, eyebrows beginning to slant in her face.   
  
"Bulma, Chichi." Dusting her hands of sand, she waited till they had come closer, Chichi still not entirely steady on her feet.  
  
"Yes?" She asked, drawing out the word slowly. Bulma smiled widely and sat down on the bench behind Juuhachigou.   
  
"How is the pregnancy going, Juu-san?"   
  
"Fine." A sore subject to pick on, in her opinion, but Bulma was oblivious to the curtness of the answer. Instead of reacting, she propped her elbows on her knees and leaned forward.  
  
"Eight months, am I right?"  
  
"Yes." Juuhachigou was yet again reminded not only of the unholy size she had become, as interesting as it was to fatten with each passing week, but of her boredom. The obesity prevented her from doing anything, especially the things that used to make her smile with expectancy - she innerly shivered at the unintended pun of that.  
  
Blue eyes narrowed, she took a side glance at Chichi, who stood off but three feet away with her thumbs hooked on the pockets of her clothing. She was staring out over the ocean, her eyes taking on an intense look as she thumbed the material of her vest thoughtfully.   
  
"Fight me." She demanded. Chichi's head snapped up, black hair swinging from her face at the monotone of Juuhachigou's voice.   
  
"What?" She hadn't yelped like that in years.  
  
"Fight me!" Bulma's eyebrows shot up in surprise, smile turning into a grin. Unnoticed now, she was free to watch as amused as an audience could be.  
  
"No!" Juuhachigou flicked her hair over her shoulder saucily and faced her in a stance, regardless of the weight that had made her body swing around so dangerously.  
  
"Why not?" She held up her fists with a smirk. "I'm not fragile; just a few rounds, come on."   
  
"No!" Chichi held up her hands to fend off any blows, not out of fright, but out of familiarity concerning the woman's character.   
  
Juuhachigou's expression slipped from indifferent to frustrated. At that point, Bulma couldn't withhold temptation any longer.  
  
"Juu-san, won't Krillin spar with you?" Her sound musing and delighted, she wiped a few strands of hair from her forehead and pulled them behind her head in a messy bun.   
  
Fists dropping to her sides reluctantly, Juuhachigou's frustration turned into a scowl; she wouldn't answer that. Krillin had been exceedingly gentle with her, especially during the last few months. She had actually grown accustomed to the smiles, grins, even tenderness, of his manner - as annoying as they could be. Now, she knew that if she asked that of him, he would be shocked.  
  
It didn't feel right.   
  
At not receiving an answer, but only a wordless snarl, Bulma shrugged.  
  
"What about Junanugou?" She asked carelessly, all the while taking out a notepad from her purse.  
  
Juuhachigou directed her attention to Bulma again, though calmer, and innerly grumbled.  
  
He would not fight her either; whenever she tried to involve him in even the shortest exchange of blows, he would only block once, smugly give her that tight-lipped grin of his, and teasingly wave a finger in the air as a way of telling her 'No.' Though his eyes immediately narrowed, they glinted with satisfaction at seeing her in the state she was in.  
  
It was sadistic, though she knew it to be for reasons of his own, not of Krillin's plea.   
  
Bulma flipped through the notepad to an empty page, a pen poised between her fingers, and cleared her throat. Not quite wanting to pull from her moody thoughts, Juhachigou let her eyes warily wander over to the expectant - not again - face of Bulma's.   
  
"Juu-san, how about a babyshower?" Juhachigou glanced at her with surprise creasing her forehead.   
  
A babyshower?   
  
She had been an enemy before, gladly threatening the lives of their husbands and sons and, to put it bluntly, had destroyed carelessly. Now, they wanted to celebrate her pregnancy?? Juhachigou's expression frozen, she only managed to lift an eyebrow at the peculiarity so many people brought out to surface in the open every so often.  
  
Bulma shrugged off the ungiven response taking it as her cue to advance to the next step of planning.  
  
"Now, guests. Who would you like to invite?" Juhachigou stumbled along, quietly staring down at the blank notepad. She hesitantly shrugged her shoulders and Bulma nibbled at the end of the pen.  
  
"I see." She tapped the pen against her shoulder. "Chichi, me, Videl, okaasan, Lunch, and Puar, if she wants to. How does that sound?"   
  
Juhachigou nodded stiffly, fingers curling around the edge of the bench and tightening, leaving indents of her fingers in the wood.  
  
Chichi smiled, if unsure. She looked a little shaken, perhaps even bewildered. It was very unlike her.   
  
"Gifts." Bulma eyed Juuhachigou's belly critically. "What do you need for the baby?"   
  
Drawing her eyes away from the list of names, she thought for a moment. Krillin would know; he seemed to have planned the entire pregnancy himself - or so she liked to think when cranky.   
  
During the night, when she couldn't sleep and tossed till the sheets wrapped tightly around her legs, Krillin would pat her on the shoulder and pull them free, making sure she was comfortable before falling asleep again. He was the one who became emotional at the thought of rocking his child to sleep, the one who was caught humming to her stomach on lazy days.   
  
She thought back to the list he had talked over with her, just a few weeks ago, and added it on to her own.  
  
Tucking some hair over her shoulder, Juuhachigou took the notepad and pen from Bulma's hands and began to write down supplies. Silently scribbling away, she felt a shadow fall over her arm when Bulma bent to the side to read as she wrote. Nearly feeling the knowing grin stretch across the woman's face, she just caught herself from elbowing her away. But personal space would have to be neglected this one time; Chichi had joined.  
  
Crouching over her, each pressing their upper body weight into her and unintentionally hitting an annoyed nerve, the tip of the pen broke at the last flick of Juuhachigou's wrist, spraying tiny dots of ink onto her clothes. Staring down at her knees unemotionally, she couldn't have cared less; Krillin would, truthfully, by happy with this baby or give birth to his own, because she was not going to wear maternity clothes again if she could help it.  
  
Wordlessly pressing the notepad into Bulma's eager hands, she wrapped one hand around the other in her lap, waiting for a reaction. Yet again, a small breeze spilled onto her head, lifting the strands of hair around her face and warming with the sun.  
  
"Good morning."   
  
Juuhachigou had no need to look up, but only nodded. Digging her large toe into the sand, she felt the shock run through Bulma and Chichi on each side of her, paralyzing them for that moment before they jumped up - not in unison. Somehow, she felt pleased that her brother still had that affect on people; it was an amusement she didn't tire of.  
  
Juunanagou gave the smallest of bows, elegantly straightening, smiling coldly. One hand had been slipped into his pocket; the other fingered a television's remote control.   
  
Startled, Chichi patted down any invisible creases in her clothing.  
  
"Good morning." Bulma glanced at him quickly, but turned her attention back at Juuhachigou with collected humor.   
  
"What date?" She asked, already digging for another pen to use in her purse. Juuhachigou's shoulders lifted, fell; she didn't care, whenever. Having found a dulled pencil, she licked the tip and set it against the paper.   
  
"Two weeks from today?"  
  
"Hai." Just agree, the woman has a schedule.   
  
Turning in her seat, Juuhachigou caught the smile Chichi gave her and almost gave way to an openly surprised expression.   
  
"Thank you for humoring us, Juu-san, we enjoyed it," Glancing at Bulma, who was on her knees trying to zip her purse shut, "We will see you later."  
  
"The specifics still need to be outlined." Bulma reminded them, tugging at the zipper, "So we'll call."  
  
Juunanagou watched almost cheerfully as the two said their good-bye's and left, although hastily. Wagging his head in silent laughter, he eyed his sister as she attempted to get up on her feet without any support and losing her balance on the first try.   
  
"They seemed nervous." He said candidly. Juuhachigou turned her head quickly to see the aircraft turn into an indistinguishable blotch once more before laughing, the bulk of her body raised a few inches from the bench. Eyes half-closed, natural sarcasm mingling with a sweet tenderness for her brother, her lips formed a cynical smile.  
  
"What did you come out here for, to scare them away?" Juunanigou's usually expressionless, freakishly observant face twisted into one of glee, his eyes sparkling with the accidental prank he had pulled.  
  
"Actually, you're breakfast was ready." Juuhachigou's laugh rang again, bright and happy, making Oolong freeze with foreboding in his room.   
  
Juunanagou was the only male she had ever met that wasn't at all dense; he could miss details in a person's smile or look, but never mistook an action for anything other than what it really was. He was one of the few that enjoyed watching people flinch at his sudden presence.   
  
Juuhachigou finally rested on the soles of her feet, the small of her back aching the tiniest bit, and pulled her hair into a mess between her fingers, all the while watching her brother turn away with the knowing that his sister would walk on her own, eyelashes lowered in a cynically submissive way.  
  
  
Hot water, in any case whatsoever, was extremely relaxing. Hammering down on her shoulders, running along the sides of her belly, Juuhachigou lifted her face to the faucet and watched the spray fall while water drops clung to her eyelashes. Wiping a soaked strand of hair from her forehead, she kept her eyes on the faucet and reached for the bar of soap. Not immediately finding it, she began to reach farther, groping, tipping her weight onto one foot.   
  
Her fingers curled around the slippery thing and she rubbed it between her hands, bubbles spilling out over her knuckles and wrists. Not caring that the soap was sliding up in her palms, Juuhachigou gave one last squeeze and it spit out, slapping the ceiling before breaking into three uneven pieces and littering the floor of the shower booth.   
  
Blinking, she realized that a film had spread over her eyes, blurring her line of vision and stinging lightly. She nearly brought a hand up to her face when she remembered both being soapy. Grabbing for the knob to turn the shower off, she stumbled out onto the tiled floor and almost slipped, but managed to avoid doing so by clinging to the shower stall's sliding door. Testing to see if a towel was nearby, she wrapped this around her as best she could, gripping the edges of it in a fist close to her chest.   
  
This wasn't working. Everything swam in front of her, shimmering where it wasn't supposed to. It was becoming an annoying thing for her, and she steered herself for the sink. With one hand on the edge, she traced it to the faucet handles and yanked on one.   
  
Hot.   
  
Yanking that to its' original position she tried the other; cold.   
  
Ducking her head under the flow of water as best she could, Juuhachigou eyes' fluttered as the soap was flushed out. Using the tips of her fingers - now washed - she wiped at the corners of her eyes before fully opening them. The soap had left behind only an irritated feel, and she could just see the red of veins creeping across her eyeball to prove it. Turning from the mirror over the sink, she glanced around for her robe, still blinking.   
  
It wasn't there. She must not have brought it in.  
  
"Krillin!" She yelled, making sure her footing was stable.   
  
Hurried steps rushed down the hall and she heard him stop outside the door, worried. Eyes wary, she told him he could come in.   
  
He stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him. Running a hand through his hair, he glanced her over with relief, and waited for her to say something.  
  
Juuhachigou gestured to the towel covering her body with impatience.  
  
"I don't think I brought my robe in." She said pointedly. Krilling nodded, leaving for less than a minute before returning with the wanted clothing in his hands.   
  
Without another word he placed it around her shoulders gently, oblivious to the surprise it sprung in Juuhachigou. Eyeing him strangely, she put one arm, then the other into the sleeves.  
  
  
"Thanks." She muttered.   
  
Krillin grinned, Juuhachigou reading each feeling he had in his behavior, and patted her shoulder comfortingly. Turning away quickly, she finished tying the robe closed, and Krilling hung the towel up to dry.   
  
"I'm going to bed now." He told her, "But if you need anything, just call. Goodnight." With that, he left her to herself and wandered out into the hall.   
  
Juuhachigou watched him leave through her peripheral vision, wondering what made him act so generously to her demands - not all of which were as easy to fulfill as this. Letting the feeling leak out, she thought of what else to do.  
  
It had become habit to stay up late during the evening for her; usually, she was the last to crawl under the covers and sleep. In the late hours of the day, she felt the solitude of the island the most. No one was awake to jolt her from an odd daydream, to ask or call to her, to find ways of avoiding her. At that time, she was free to do whatever it was she felt like doing - almost.   
  
Padding out into the hall, she clicked the light of the bathroom off and faced the dimly-lit living room in which the television sat. With difficulty, she bent over and placed a pillow on the coffee table for her feet before sinking into the cushions of the sofa.  
  
Slipping the remote from its' position wedged into the crack made between the sofa and the cushions, she readied herself for the hours to come. Softly grinding her heels into the pillow - after walking around as much as she had, they were sore - and began flipping through the channels.   
  
"...I will triumph!" Click.  
  
"...and a blow up the head..." Click.  
  
"...eighty degrees tomorrow with su-" Click.  
  
"..chop the parsnips, throw those in with the snake.." Click.  
  
Annoyed, Juuhachigou stabbed at the buttons of the remote in dimming hopes of finding something that would hold her interest.  
  
After several minutes of effort, she gave a snort and turned the set off. She didn't like parsnips, anyway.   
  
At this time of night, she used to fly out and around the island. But with the increase of weight she had become somewhat unbalanced, therefore unable to fly steadily and without worry. Feeling as if she hadn't anything to do at 11 PM - exercise of the sort she preferred was forbidden, and she couldn't very well sleep, being as restless as she felt - she headed for the kitchen.  
  
Padding through to the cabinets, she went onto her knees and positioned her body so she could bend forward without creating an ache in her lower back. Flinging the cabinet doors apart, Juuhachigou casually began rifled through the contents, flipping bags and packages over her shoulder when they didn't fit her taste. Soon enough, random piles of food lay around her while she continued the hunt; cans of fruit soon joined the packaged goods, along with some loafs of bread and a container of snow peas.  
  
Still not discovering anything she could dub as tasty, Juuhachigou struggled up to her feet by help of the counter; just before it gave out, she raised both hands above her head and reached for the booths above. Flour. Sugar. Rice. Chocolate covered coffee beans - she eyed those hungrily before grudgingly dismissing them as unfit. Cinnamon. Pepper. Ginger. Soy sauce. Wasabe.   
  
Stepping around the spices she had let drop and gather round her feet, she moved onto the next cabinet. It was virtually empty, holding only a half-eaten bag of some candy and baking mixes she hadn't known anyone had bought. Briefly considering baking, she shut the cabinet with self-restraint; there had to be better.  
  
The refrigerator; her last chance, unless she was extremely ambitious and explored the freezer. Gripping the handle of the door, she grimly, slowly opened it; milk, juice, alcoholic beverages - they really should have known better; in this state of mind, she might even have tried sake - eggs, assorted sashimi, small tubs of leftovers that were failures resulting of Roshi's attempts at a meal, a small chicken.   
  
Juuhachigou's eyes traveled back to the chicken, still on its' styrofoam plate and wrapped so unbecomingly in plastic wrap; suddenly, it looked unusually delicious. Meanwhile, her stomach started to scream cravings for meat. Grabbing the carcass, Juuhachigou tore a hole in the plastic, shut the door hastily with a shaky foot, and stuck the whole thing in the microwave to cook.   
  
During the wait she leaned against the counter, chin on chest, hands overlapped on the swell of her belly.   
  
Sometimes, if she concentrated enough, and her patience held out, she could feel it kick; nothing energetic, but small bumps that vibrated through her hands briefly. With a smile that crept over her face without her knowing, she thought of how placid it must be to not have created a fuss yet. Gliding one hand down to where she felt the dip of her bellybutton, she paused, ignoring the insistent pain between her shoulder blades.   
  
Raising her eyes to the ceiling, Juuhachigou tucked a tangled strand of hair behind her ear, pondering quietly. Unnoticed went the high-pitched beep of the microwave; she started wagging her head from side to side slowly in time to the tune in her head. Vaguely remembering it to be the song Krillin hummed to her stomach, Juuhachigou half-heartedly took the chicken out of the microwave and set it aside.   
  
Her appetite could be stilled later; she let the smell of it rise and float off, still keeping time in her mind and with her thumbs on the edge of the counter, unaware of the time slinking past and scraping close to midnight, nodding softly to invisible lyrics.   
  
  
  
"You're coming."   
  
"I don't even know her."   
  
"That doesn't really matter."   
  
"It does to me."   
  
"Don't argue the irrefutable."   
  
"Shouza, get me another."   
  
"Quit drinking and listen!"   
  
"I already told you, no."   
  
Bulma scowled, narrowing her eyes at the blonde in front of her. Pressing well-manicured nails into the skin of her palms, she reached forward, took hold of the woman's chin and forced her to look her in the face.  
  
"You're coming." She said deadpan.   
  
Lunch pulled away uneasily, taking up her order in one hand and slowly bringing it to her lips. One eyebrow raised, a haggard expression on her face, she distantly wondered how long Bulma had been at her side. It must have been close to one in the morning - she only came after the brunt of the customers had left, when the smoke of cigars was fleeing and the music could be heard, and stayed long enough to at least hold a conversation with the janitor.  
  
"You always have been persistent." She muttered, pulling up one corner of her mouth in a sneer, some of the liquor dribbling out over her chin. With a swipe of her hand, she rid herself of that. Bulma propped herself against the counter, studying the familiar face she had come to know early in her life with severity.  
  
"You're coming then." Meant as a demand, Bulma's tone was brusque and matter-of-fact. Lunch slammed her glass down, disgusted with the way she had handled her part of the arguement.  
  
"Yes, I will." Submissive only in the meaning of what she said, Lunch closed her eyes and enjoyed another gulp of her drink, washing away the aftertaste of the last with it. Bulma chewed thoughtfully on a toothpick, rolling it over her teeth with the tip of her tongue, her mind already past what she had gnawed her way through and on other things, springing from idea to idea.  
  
Taking her purse into her hand, she ward off a sideglance of Lunch's with stern grimness tightening the line of her jaw.   
  
"Be on time." Lunch shoved the glass toward Shouza - the bartender - and waved her off nonchalantly.  
  
"Don't worry." She said rather breezily, though her mouth felt to be padded with cotton swabs and her gums numb. Too much to drink yet again; Bulma, temporarily breaking away from the strict disposition, curled her fingers around her shoulder and gave a nod.  
  
"I will see you there, then."   
  
"Yes." With that, she parted, leaving enough money to cover her part of the bill. Lunch picked through the bills, rubbing them between her fingers. Admitting to herself that she felt drowsy was something she let herself acknowledge; biting the inside of her cheek, she stood up, stretched stiffly and waved to Shouza.   
  
"Good night, Sho-sama."   
  
"Good night, Lunch-san."  
  
  
Eh, the possibilities this opens is endless and wide open; the dynamics between the characters are enough to make me giggle with glee! *Pulls back in her seat and does just so*  
  
Please review! 


End file.
